AND KAYAK 171 



deep or soft or wet for their games. You 

 may imagine how surprised I was when I went 

 into an Eskimo house one bright spring day, 

 and found a healthy-looking little boy in bed. 



This was a strange sight ; it was surely 

 not a case of illness, for there was no mistak 

 ing the mischief that twinkled in those bright 

 little eyes that followed all my movements ; 

 but here was Abraha in bed in broad daylight, 

 while all the other boys and babies too, for 

 that matter were shouting and playing out 

 of doors. I cast about for a cause of the 

 phenomenon. &quot; Ah,&quot; I thought, &quot; Abraha s 

 mother has an eye to her boy s welfare after 

 all : it is not all callousness ; she has the 

 mother s instinct to care for her children.&quot; 



Above the stove there stretched a string, 

 and on the string there hung a row of little 

 boots and trousers and shirt and dicky, 

 sopping with moisture and steaming in the 

 warmth. So there was a limit to the lengths 

 to which the child might go unchecked. 

 &quot; Yes,&quot; she said, &quot; he has tumbled through 

 the ice and got wet through, and he must 

 stay in bed till his clothes are dry : I cannot 

 let him have his Sunday clothes, for he would 

 spoil them uivetokulluk &quot; (the little rascal) 

 this last with a smile of real motherly pride 

 at the restless little fellow in the bed. 



